


Instead of breaking my heart, you're picking up all the pieces

by sentipensante



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Booker is a mess, Cuckolding, Drabble Collection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Friends With Benefits, Immortal Friendship, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, M/M, Open Marriage, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Regency, Rough Oral Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26722294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentipensante/pseuds/sentipensante
Summary: They were out tonight, just the three of them, and had a few drinks and Booker's been hurting, and Joe has seen for years how Nicky feels for their friend who is so angry, and alone.So, it’s Nicky’s idea after they talk about it, and they get Booker just a little tipsy because that's how you get Booker to do anything, really, and they spill back to Joe and Nicky's place. Nicky takes Booker’s hand and tugs him up to the bedroom, with Joe trailing slowly behind. And as Nicky falls to his knees and undoes Booker’s belt, starts to mouth at him, Joe is sprawled in a chair opposite and telling Booker: "Put your fingers in his hair, tug on it a little. He likes that."
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Joe | Yusuf al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 11
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, discord drabble. Edited/posted with permission of my dear friend who wishes to remain unnamed at this time but will instead go by code name Eagle Two. She enables me by writing wonderful, wonderful smut with me and is incredibly talented. She completes me and has brought you 50% of this drabble (I am the first portion, she is the second, we alternate from there as denoted by _~_ ) we imagined where Nicky is the “point of an angle, rather than a triangle” in regards to a Joe/Nicky/Booker encounter, which I AGREE WITH SO HARD IT HURTS - Joe and Booker are friends, but not like that, and after 900+ years together our Immortal Husbands are secure enough to know what they like and sometimes that means giving one of your teammates a blowjob if it’s going to cheer him up, okay???

Joe isn’t quite stroking himself, but just squeezing, hand gripping hard through his pants as he watches Nicky's lips wrapped around Booker's cock. Booker is still a little drunk on expensive bourbon but mostly on the feel of Nicky’s mouth, perched on the edge of the mattress with his pants shoved haphazardly down past his hips. Nicky is on his knees and angled in a way that Joe can see how hard he is under his zipper. 

They were out tonight, just the three of them, and had a few drinks and Booker's been hurting, and Joe has seen for years how Nicky feels for their friend who is so angry, and alone. So, it’s Nicky’s idea after they talk about it, and they get Booker just a little tipsy because that's how you get Booker to do anything, really, and they spill back to Joe and Nicky's place. Nicky takes Booker’s hand and tugs him up to the bedroom, with Joe trailing slowly behind. And as Nicky falls to his knees and undoes Booker’s belt, starts to mouth at him, Joe is sprawled in a chair opposite and telling Booker: "Put your fingers in his hair, tug on it a little. He likes that."

  
~

I can imagine Booker being like "what is going on? this... i can't be awake. this would never happen..." But he's not waking up, and Nicky's mouth is so warm and wet, and it's been too long that Booker's been with anyone that he knew and liked and that knew and liked him in return (prostitutes are mostly his choice, sometimes a bar hookup), but this is NICKY, and what is he supposed to do with that? It makes everything easier to just do what Joe says (Joe! is here! and not slitting his throat for daring to touch Nicky!) so he slides his hands into Nicky's hair and curls his fingers and shudders when that makes Nicky moan around him. 

  
~  


And let’s be real - a "few" drinks is a few bottles, for any of them, and especially for Booker and normally by now his head wouldn't be swimming anymore, except that the way Nicky's hand on his chest as he pushed Booker down onto the bed felt like a wrecking ball shoving him violently off-balance and before he knew it, Nicky was on his knees. And he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder at Joe as Nicky's hands were suddenly on his zipper, fumbling a little. And Joe's focus was just on Nicky, so yeah, okay, this is a little easier to believe - but he still hasn't had time for a clear thought and definitely not a fully-formed question before Nicky's lips slide over his head and a soft, warm tongue traces over his slit. And Joe's voice is molten and Booker feels Nicky's cheeks hollow as his fingers curl obediently against Nicky's scalp and Booker's eyes flutter.   
  
"Good," murmurs Joe in soft, rough approval and Booker feels the sound of another zipper being lowered and the creak of floorboard, like someone's weight is shifting in their seat. "You can fuck his mouth, if you want to do it. Don't feel the need to be too gentle. Nicoló knows his safe words - isn't that right?" 

And Nicky's eyes are half-shut but he groans as Booker's dick nudges tentatively towards the back of his throat, and he can feel the more slender man's jaw relaxing as he opens wider in welcome. From over his shoulder, he can hear Joe _tsk_ softly. 

"Don't insult him, Booker. Or me. Give it to him as good as he deserves."

  
~

But that just cements it - Booker has to be dreaming. Even with eyes only for Nicky, there's no way that Joe would ever say something like that. And there's no way that Nicky would be so eager to swallow Booker down, but there he is, with dark lashes hiding his eyes and his cheeks going hollow, and at this angle his cheekbones are so sharp. And now Booker's the one groaning as Nicky's taking him deeper because his own hand is never a match for a warm, wet mouth, and the giddy thought that bullets through his mind is that Nicky's had nearly a millenium to learn to suck cock, and it shows. Joe's voice is always warm, especially when he talks about Nicky, but at the moment it's molten and makes even Booker's skin flare with heat. And at the same time, it's the devil on his shoulder, telling him exactly which wicked path to wander down. It only takes the slightest pressure from his hands to get Nicky sliding closer, taking him deeper, pushing any actual possibility at thought from his head. Instead, he's left whispering Nicky's name into the stillness of the room and shifting his hips while tugging more, only stopping when the pressure of Nicky's throat closes around him.

And Booker can hear the hitch in Joe's breath from behind him, but most of his attention has shifted to Nicky, barely noticing the murmur of Joe's voice as he whispers: "Harder".

It feels like the permission that Nicky can't quite give at the moment, coming instead from Joe's mouth, as Booker shudders and holds Nicky close by the hair, keeping his fingers tight even with the instinctive spasm of Nicky's throat after too many seconds without air. Booker feels a lance of guilt alongside the pleasure that jolts through him, knowing that he's crossed a line of roughness, but when he finally loosens his fingers again, Nicky pulls back only long enough for a ragged gasp and to slur ' _Sebastien_ ' against the spit-sloppy skin of Booker's cock before sliding his mouth back down again.

  
~  


With a pistol to his temple, Booker would not admit it, but he's too chicken-shit to turn around and look Joe in the eye. Not when his voice drips down Booker's vertebrae, works into the marrow of his bones while Nicky takes him so deep down his throat that he sees god while his fingers twist around soft, silken locks of hair. Almost of their own accord (or maybe because of that trickling sensation of danger that twines in his ear at the sound of lust in Joe's voice), Booker's fingers dig harder against the base of Nicky's skull and holds his head there as his hips hitch. He picks up speed, and Nicky works hard not to choke, to keep his throat relaxed, nostrils flaring and eyes welling up with unshed moisture as Book swells in his throat and Nicky's tongue works against his foreskin and the heated skin of his cockhead. Something about knowing Nicky’s mouth is flooded with the tang of precome, seeing how Nicky's lips are pink and obscenely wet and so beautiful, Book has to wonder how he's never noticed before, the sensuality of this man’s face and the way his mouth was made for sucking dick.

And there's something else, something about the way that Joe's voice is the farthest thing from coddling or unsure as it curls against the shell of Book’s ear. Booker can hear the tight way that he bites out the instruction and his hips judder forward almost before he realizes, and the mumble of his christian name against the head of his cock through swollen lips before Nicky takes him down again, nose pressing hard against the dark curls at the base of his cock - fuck, that alone is almost enough to make him come but instead he rakes the fingers of both hands up through Nicky's hair and then down again, yanking tight now, and lifts his hips up off the mattress to fuck the man's mouth in earnest, springs creaking under his furiously shifting weight.

Nicky is moaning and tears stream down his face and they can both hear Joe's breath coming harder somewhere behind Booker, and it should feel wrong but it makes it so much more - fuck, it's hot, and it's messy, and Nicky's spit is running down his chin and the wet sound of the best blowjob he's had in half a century is echoing loud in Booker's ears and he feels his balls tighten as Nicky's hands both come around to grab onto the undersides of Booker's thighs, to pull him even deeper, and Joe just mumbles, vowels thick: “You want to come down his throat, or on his face?"

~

How long has he known the two men in the room with him? Longer than most people were alive, and yet he can’t recall a moment when he's ever even entertained the thought of something like this happening. Even now, there is more thought for the man in front of him than the man behind. And though he can’t completely ignore the heat of Joe's voice, it exists somehow as more of an extension of what is happening with Nicky.

It’s another facet of the whole, like the way the tears are beading on Nicky's lashes and then spill over his cheeks or the way he keeps making those fucking sounds around Booker's cock in the back of his throat. And if Joe had expected him to be able to answer that question, he was sadly mistaken, because just being offered the choice - the thought of either one - has Booker's vision going hazy around the edges, his fingers clenching even harder and his thighs going tense as he spills into Nicky's mouth, sudden like a knife through his gut and almost as painful in its intensity.

"Fuck. _Merde_. Nicky..." his tongue trips thickly over the words, nearly choking himself when he realizes that the pressure around his cock is the tension of Nicky's throat as he swallows.

Booker can barely keep his eyes open, but he watches Nicky, the movement of his adam's apple as he swallows, the fine tremble of his shoulders, feels the soft gusts of air against his skin as Nicky breathes through his nose.

~ 

Joe, for his part, is so close to coming that he's pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket because he knows that he and Nicky are running out of clean clothes and if they're going to fulfill the mission that Andy has scheduled for the next day, he won't have time to do their laundry. Nicky will sleep in because that is what he does; Joe has not been able to get him out of bed before noon unless under threat of imminent death of a loved one - or with a blowjob - and so his calloused hands rasp along the slick skin of his cock before he bites his tongue and comes hard into the handkerchief.

And Nicky - beautiful, sweet, supplicant Nicoló is trying hard not to gag around the swell of Booker's cock fucking his throat, the man's wide, thick-fingered hand tugging at the hair behind his ears, and Nicky's wet eyes open just far enough to meet Joe’s gaze as he can feel the swelling of their friend's cock in his mouth and Nicky shivers, spine-deep, at the liquid drip of Booker's voice and the hot, salty pulse of bitterness that Nicky barely has time to taste as he swallows.

And then Joe is coming, into the handkerchief, but still hard enough that he splatters onto the floor as his Nicoló chokes down Booker's come and Booker moans, too - louder than he does most times he gets shot or eviscerated. Joe sees the way that their friend's fingers are twisted hard in Nicky's hair and he knows how keyed up Nicky is going to be when Booker passes the fuck out. He knows how Nicky will want to ride that wave, will stay hard in his pants as he kneels in front of Joe and offers his mouth to see if he can get his husband hard again.

Booker is coming and it feels like an endless wave down Nicky's throat, and Nicky is swallowing hard around him, fingers gripping the undersides of Booker's thighs, and when he feels the throb of Booker's cock stilling against his tongue he pulls off with a gasp and rests his cheek against the inside of the man’s knee.

“ _Bellissimo_ ,” Nicky mumbles, lips swollen, tongue clumsy, cock straining hard under his zipper but knowing that Joe will take care of him. Nicky's eyes flicker open and up at Booker and he smiles, cheeks stained wet. "Tell me that we have made you happy, _amati_.”

And Booker can only smile, panting, lips parted as he reaches out and cups Nicky's cheek. Angles his chin towards his shoulder so that the words are directed just as much at Joe as they are at the wet-eyed angel kneeling at his feet.

" _Molto bene, mio caro_.“ And Nicky smiles. Turns his face to brush a lazy, salty kiss against Booker's palm. Meets Joe's gaze and blinks heavy-lidded in a look that Joe understands to mean _we have taken care of this man that we love_. And when Booker rolls over to sleep, Joe climbs onto their bed behind Nicky and slings one arm over his waist, with his fingertips resting lightly against Booker's bare hip. And Nicky sighs, because it will be different tomorrow but this feels right - for tonight.


	2. I break you. I cup your face.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He keeps his tongue soft for Nicky's finger, exhaling with the press against his lip, and keeps his eyes closed, even when the grip on his chin tightens and forces him to the exact angle Nicky wants. Everything Nicky says falls across Joe like waves of desert noontime sun, making him feel hot and oversensitive, and yet he starts to shiver like he's cold, a fine little tremble that he can't quite control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PART TWO of discord drabbles between myself and Eagle Two, as per the last chapter's notes and inspired by these obscene gifs: [this](https://64.media.tumblr.com/6ab1a8e5b7317728fad26c8361c177ea/6269772d5a2a6254-b6/s400x600/70884f9854f655e6e4a3bb87cc262416cdd1f51d.gif) and [THIS](https://64.media.tumblr.com/f406ca2874adc934227d7287c3c5e6bc/6269772d5a2a6254-99/s400x600/bf14727a38f8edc73be9704da183662fb6d6ccaa.gif) ugh.

Okay so tell me Joe's reaction - Joe is sitting across the room facing Nicky, talking to their mark over brandy, whoever they need information from, but the mark's back is turned so only Joe can see him. And Joe reluctantly turned his husband down for a quicky before they left because they were already running late. The idiot.

~

So of course Joe's been half hard the entire night. and this is post dinner, post dessert, now for drinks in a separate room from the women. And Joe can't help the way his eyes shift over when they catch the movement - pale hand over dark trousers - and he nearly chokes on his drink which just makes it burn as it goes down, making his eyes water.

~

And the slight smirk turns into a grin that Nicky doesn't bother to hide, and he shifts his weight closer to the edge of the seat so that his pants are stretched more taut, making the line of his bulge stand out.

~

And Joe has to shift his position. Cross his legs in a way that hides the effect Nicky is having on him. Hope that no one else notices.

~

And once the drinks have been refilled and a few moments pass, making Joe perhaps think he's safe - Nicky takes one thumb into his mouth, then runs it up along the line of that evident bulge until he gets back to his cockhead and then circles, slowly, eyes fluttering once as his tongue slides along his upper lip.

~

It's barely another minute before Joe is making his excuses to the host and saying goodbye. So much for THAT part of the mission. But he can't sit there with Nicky doing that and NOT want to climb on top of him - which would not have gone over very well with their host. And he leaves Nicky to make his own farewells. 

[OR]

Instead of bailing,

Joe leans himself a little more against the arm of the armchair he's sitting in, enough so he can prop his elbow/arm the right way, and rests his glass against his lower lip, mostly trying to pay attention to the man he's talking to instead of his INFURIATING HUSBAND across the way. lol. Just constantly, barely, gently, pressing the crystal to his lower lip. Which is of course a little wet from the drink.

~

Oh yes, because he knows it's the subtlety that affects Nicky so much more - because Joe is passionate af, so when he is reserved, Nicky KNOWS how much effort it takes and how much he is going to boil over with a near violence when it does happen. And Nicky is of course very still, almost always reserved, so he knows it drives Joe fucking wild when he is obscene and wanton in his lust.

And will use it to his advantage very strategically.

~

Not to mention the fact that they both have had to be extra careful even when they're in their own rooms. Because so much could go wrong if they're caught together like that.

But yes to the subtlety. Like the stuff with the glass. Or 'absently' turning one of his rings around on his finger.

~

Of course - until Nicky surprises Joe with a townhome somewhere in west London, with walls so thick you couldn't hear a revolver go off next door, and a butler who also happens to be a confirmed bachelor and is paid almost triple what another man in his station would earn, and a maid whose life they saved in Shanghai (where the sodomy laws don't exist and no one cares whom you fuck) and brought over with them

So he can also taunt Joe by fiddling with one of the buttons on his waistcoat - not low enough to be obscene, but around his navel

~

Yes. Or like, a watch chain. Sliding his finger back and forth beneath it

~

Or just twisting it once around his index finger.

~

Absolutely innocent, every single thing. But it's devastating to Nicky.

Also, innocent in action, not in intent. 

~

Yep, until he has to leave first and call their carriage, but instructs the driver to wait.

It takes just long enough to be appropriate, but also just long enough that it's TOO FUCKING LONG TO WAIT. 

By the time Joe climbs in, Nicky's got one hand down his pants and a sheen of sweat on his hairline

~

Joe would tell the driver to go, shut the door, and go to his knees. Bite at his own lip and then lick over it so it's just as wet as it was against his glass inside. And then look up at Nicky... and wait.

~

And Nicky would reach out with his free hand to brush over Joe's brow, down the clean edge of his jaw, then along the very top ridge of his upper lip just below the neat line of his mustache. His hand still moving under his trousers, but so slowly. Cheeks flushing and a reverent expression on his face  
~

A touch that delicate would make joe shiver, the feeling crawling along his spine. The trace of his lip making his mouth water as he leans his body forward but doesn't crowd himself against the edge of the seat (yet). Moves his head from side to side, just enough that Nicky's fingers move back and forth over his lips - first the top, but then Joe tips his chin up just enough that the wet inner edge of his lower lip _drags_ painstakingly slow against Nicky's finger.

~

And it does something primal to Nicky, unspooling something heated deeply in his belly, to see Joe acting subservient as he is now when he sees the man strong in battle far too often. To know that he has even some small amount of power over this man who _is_ power and authority and carnage incarnate, to make his lips quiver - and even still, taking control in the glide of Nicky's fingertip over the slick swell of Joe's lip, and Nicky has to still his hand on his cock as his finger slips just far enough between those parted lips to brush the wet warmth of his tongue. Because if he doesn't, he's worried he might truly make a mess of the carriage.

~

The second Nicky's finger slips past his lips, Joe's eyes slip closed and he gives a little sigh like it's a divine experience - making his mouth soft and gentle around Nicky's finger, breathing through his nose. And he doesn't get like this a lot - but with how bold Nicky was being, Joe almost automatically slips into a more timid role. Thre for using, if Nicky has use for him. Ready and willing to be worshipful.

~

Nicky isn't obtrusive about it; it's almost a caress, just stroking against the soft flat of Joe's tongue before withdrawing and pressing against the middle of his bottom lip of a moment. But he does take a grip of Joe's chin and jaw in his fingers then, squeezing harder than he normally would. Because the thing is, he knows Joe is going to be worshipful whether Nicky asks it or not - but he does like this, the moment where he gets to angle Joe's face upwards and murmur in Lingurian: _My beautiful soldier. My prince. You look so lovely like this, on your knees for me. I wish that I could feel your mouth this moment._

But they both know as the carriage slows that they are nearing their townhome and will have to depart, Nicky will have to fasten his trousers. And Nicky knows that when they get upstairs, he will 'suggest' that Joe fix them a drink before joining him in the bedroom, where Joe will find him bare and stretched languid on the bed, still mostly hard and leaking against the dusting of hair under his navel. Because Nicky is here to be worshipped, yes, but he is also eager to feel the power of Joe's larger body on top of his own, and the desperation that Nicky has worked so hard to cultivate over the last several hours.

~

He keeps his tongue soft for Nicky's finger, exhaling with the press against his lip, and keeps his eyes closed, even when the grip on his chin tightens and forces him to the exact angle Nicky wants. Everything Nicky says falls across Joe like waves of desert noontime sun, making him feel hot and oversensitive, and yet he starts to shiver like he's cold, a fine little tremble that he can't quite control. He almost whimpers at the things Nicky says, because there's something so poetic and so overwhelming about them. He almost leans in at hearing Nicky's desire for his mouth, the thought of the carriage long gone from his mind, and it's only the grip on his jaw that keeps him from doing it. He barely processes the stopping of the carriage, but he follows easily and almost obediently behind Nicky when they go upstairs. He's able to think things through (like knowing that they won't actually have the drinks right away), but it's at a distance, and he's very happy to just let the thoughts happen and then pass. When he finally gets to the room and sees Nicky spread out like some combination of divinity and sacrifice rolled into one, Joe almost drops the glasses to the floor, only just managing to set them down before crossing to the bed. Hesitating there as his knees start to buckle, catching himself because he doesn't know if he's meant to sink to the floor or join Nicky on the bed, and he has yet to say a word since climbing into the carriage, even though his mouth opens like he has something to say, but nothing comes of it.

~

It’s fascinating, the way that the wide angles and strength of Joe’s face can turn smooth like warmed clay under the grip of Nicky’s fingers - the fingers that communicate, as they tighten their grip briefly: _this is how I want you to want me_. And when Nicky leads the way up the stairs and senses rather than hears Joe’s steps following after he’s poured them each a glass of something that smells like peat and old money, he smiles. Because he can feel the tether between them, the tightening of the coil as it springs back and pulls Joe to the bed, where Nicky smiles up at him beatifically. “It is not so often that you are the quiet one,” in English this time as he lets one knee fall to the side at an angle, butterflied out and leaving him wantonly bare as he feels a familiar heat creeping up his neck and down his chest - Nicky does not blush per se, with his colouring, but his skin turns ruddy along all the places where he feels the warmth of Joe’s gaze falling on him like sunshine. “Do I need to roll over to help you find your tongue?”

~

His Nicoló - so beautiful splayed out as he is, and wise with so few words. He speaks the truth to state that Joe is usually the louder of the two, the more likely to spill words from his lips and let Nicky keep his voice between closer friends and spaces. But there is a tidal ebb and flow to everything he's found through the centuries, and this is not exempt. They would be unnatural if they remained constant and unchanging over their years. And more than simply that, they find it easy to respond to the changing tides in each other, marking each swelling and falling wave as a dance between the two of them. So when Nicky pushes with words of near poetry, a hard grip, teasing and taunting in public, Joe is so easily able to respond with subtle gestures, soft submission, and quiet. Even silent though, Joe's eyes gain heat as he looks at Nicky, following the line of bare thigh, knowing the texture of the skin and hair there - knowing it by touch and by tongue. And at the sunset flush of Nicky's skin, he smiles, only about half as mischievous as he might usually be. When he finally responds with words, his voice sounds as though he's recovering from an injury - waiting for his throat to heal, though there is no wound there.  
  
"It is in my mouth, my love. Though i will gladly relocate it to anywhere you wish."

**Author's Note:**

> You can come say hi on my Immortal Husbands sideblog on tumblr [here](https://moretome-thanyoucandream.tumblr.com/)! <3
> 
> Apologies for any non-English grammatical errors.


End file.
